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Hoy, cell
phone mo!
By Michael Alan Hamlin
December 10, 2002
I recently asked former Department
of Trade & Industry assistant secretary and co-convener of the
Business Development Committee of the Information and E-Commerce
Council Toby Monsod to write a monthly column for the Philippine
edition of ComputerWorld. The magazine is published and edited by
close friends Bombing and Delia Gutierrez. The column is a joint
undertaking by my firm and ComputerWorld. Her columns have been
an outstanding success, and in her latest piece she writes that
some things in this country do work, after all. I think she was
in a good mood, or trying to be, considering the season. There were
three things that struck me about what she had to say.
Ms. Monsod, who, sadly, left government
about a year ago to finish work on a PhD, takes the Metro Rail Transit
(MRT) and the Light Rail Transit (LRT) trains to De La Salle University
about twice a week. She's teaching there as part of the requirements
for her degree. She wrote about the ride, "It is such a joy
to be on that train, speeding down EDSA, while the cars below are
struggling forward." On a lucky day, that trip by car may take
40 minutes, depending on how many jeepneys are on the road, and
the maliciousness of their drivers.
That developed-world ride, however,
is quickly interrupted when Ms. Monsod and her fellow intrepid commuters
switch lines. Until recently, that meant a considerable trek through
a bustling shopping mall, navigating around a ground-level obstacle
course involving wooden planks set across pools of dark muck that
probably give nightmares to children (and adults), and avoiding
jeepneys that suddenly careen from their queue with little or no
warning. A still incomplete third-floor walkway was opened just
recently, so happily the trauma of the transfer has been considerably
eased.
That's not the case with getting
on the MRT, however. That involves trudging up four flights of stairs
at the Magallanes station, or squeezing into a very narrow, very
slow elevator. Ms. Monsod believes the elevator was added as an
afterthought to comply with accessibility laws for the disabled.
Given the overall cost of the MRT and LRT lines, it's hard to understand
how escalators - common in public rail transport stations across
Asia - would have dramatically increased costs. On the contrary,
they might have dramatically raised revenues.
But then there's the hazard of actually
squeezing onto the train. "During the 6:30 pm rush hour, bodies
are plastered up against the doors of the train and one has to literally
wedge in a foot here and a hand there to get on," according
to Ms. Monsod. "There is actually plenty of room along the
aisle further inside but no one is about to give way and move in.
The situation can be as aggravating during mid-afternoon lulls:
even without a crowd or shortage of seats, the people waiting on
the platforms insist on standing directly opposite the train doors,
blocking all avenues for disembarking passengers to escape. In the
process it takes thrice as long for transfers to take place."
But that's where the second thing
Ms. Monsod had to say comes in. She described the events of a recent
journey this way: "It was during one such rush-hour trip that
an odd thing happened. In someone's haste to get out, a cell phone
was left behind just inside the doors of the train. How any one
of us packed into that space could have noticed, much less angled
his/her head down to see a phone is beyond me. But one person did
- and called out 'Hoy, cell phone, cell phone!' Suddenly everyone
got into the act, calling out frantically and trying in those few
seconds before the warning bells rang and the train doors slid shut
to identify who among the people scurrying away was the unfortunate
owner, 'Siya yun - hoy cell phone mo!' One fellow passenger finally
stepped off to hand the phone over to the guard and was left behind.
"Will wonders never cease?"
Ms. Monsod wrote. "A cell phone is a prized possession. There
are gangs organized to steal these for heaven's sake. Yet in the
midst of the anarchy, myopia and disrespect that is the MRT-LRT
system, a few people bothered to be honest." And helpful, to
boot. One going so far as to delay his own trip, in apparent sympathy
and concern for the hapless cell phone owner.
Ms. Monsod suggests it is the spirit
of her fellow travelers that explain why the Philippines somehow
survives despite the myriad obstacles that seem to perennially hold
it back. I guess that could be called basic human decency, and it's
a shame that it startles us the way it does when we see it. Which
is one of Ms. Monsod's points. She believes that despite our routine
skepticism, that spirit is at work every day, but mostly in an invisible
way.
By invisible, she refers to her former
co-workers in DTI and affiliated agencies. "They work quietly,
maintaining their focus and integrity and, even when the political
leadership seems bent on imploding, ensuring that the core business
of government is not disrupted. Ultimately, it is these civil servants
who carry gains forward beyond any incumbent administration. Yet
they are also the ones most often misunderstood and unappreciated
by the public-at-large."
That's as unfortunate as it is fortunate
that these individuals remain so steadfast. What strikes me most
profoundly, however, is that "Cell phone mo!" spirit,
or culture. Whoever figures out how to harness that spirit will
make the Philippines great. And that's the real challenge here,
transforming individual selflessness into collective momentum. Identifying
someone to do that, would be a great Christmas gift.
(Michael Alan Hamlin is the managing
director of consultancy TeamAsia and the author of three books on
Asian economies and companies. His latest book is Marketing Asian
Places, of which he is a co-author (Wiley, 2001). Write him at mahamlin@teamasia.com.).
Copyright © 2002 Michael Alan
Hamlin. All Rights Reserved.
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